Page 87 of Every Which Way

Adrielle frowned.

“I’ve always wanted to meet a senator. Charlie here is so sweet to offer to let me meet his boss.” She lifted her brows a couple of times. “Maybe I’ll get an internship, too.”

She squeezed Laney’s hand and whispered, “Love you guys, but you should leave this party.” Then, she kept going up the stairs. If only she could escort them out.

Laney gave a subtle nod. Good. She got the message.

Kenna went with Charlie, sliding her arm through his. “Can you believe she wore that dress? Green is so last season.” Kenna had no idea what she was talking about, but people in this echelon of society bonded over the failure of others. Pretty much like most echelons of society. She was guessing Charlie would be receptive to it.

He snorted. “My father’s housekeeper wore a green dress on New Years Eve. It was a monstrosity. You should’ve seen how hideous it was. I’ll show you a picture after I introduce you to…oh, there he is.”

The man in question, Senator Woodford, sat on a wingback chair in the corner, surrounded by people on the edge of their seats leaning toward him evidently enraptured by whatever he was saying.

Charleston Whitworth-Harrow was apparently the kind of intern who could motion with one finger, interrupt the entire conversation, and have Woodford lifting his drink for a last sip, leaving his cigar in the ashtray, and coming over to them.

“Senator, this is Kenna Banbury.”

That was the introduction that got her a reaction. “Is it really.” Statement, not a question. The senator had some years on him, but the advances of modern cosmetic medicine had smoothed out the rough edges. His nails were buffed. His top button was unfastened, and his eyes were slightly glassy, making her wonder if it was only the drink that had him in this fuzzy, altered state.

The senator looked her up and down, then said, “Get lost, son.”

“Yes, sir.”

He barely glanced at Charlie as he disappeared into the crowd. He stared down at her from a height at least two inches taller. He wasn’t thick in the chest. He had slim hips and slender legs under those well-tailored pants, but she wasn’t going to underestimate him. It took considerable grip strength to whack a golf ball for hours every week and a keenly deceptive mind to operate in political circles.

Best to do this the easy way. “I won’t be calling yousir.”

“No, I don’t suppose you will.” His expression gave away nothing. “Pretty brazen of you to simply walk in the front door.”

“No one stopped me.”

“They were instructed not to bar your entry.”

And her companion? “So, your people clocked me from the moment I entered and have had eyes on me ever since.” She hoped Laney and Adrielle were out. And that no one was going to snap a trap shut on Bruce and end whatever snooping he was doing right now.

She had to trust he had the skills to evade capture because there wasn’t much else she could do to help him.

This would become an elaborate exchange of assets if it came to it. She wasn’t above bartering. Did Amara even know all the ways this could go wrong?

In her ear, Bruce said, “Don’t worry about me.”

The senator said, “We should go somewhere less busy. Then we can have a conversation.”

She didn’t like the sound of it, but Bruce needed more time with Amara. It wasn’t like they would simply allow her to walk out the door. “Lead the way.”

He took her to the back of the room and a doorway where he entered a code. She didn’t catch all the numbers, but just enough she could get through the door if she had a few minutes. The dimly lit hallway was lined with wood paneling that added to the darkness.

Another room off to one side held an office with a single desk and a high-backed chair. Walls of bookshelves. Artwork above a fireplace that looked like it had been carved out of a single piece of stone. Real wood logs, now ashy in color, on a metal grate. A wide window covered by floor-to-ceiling heavy drapes.

“Nice office.”

Woodford went to the credenza, opened it, and drew out a glass decanter with a stopper on top. He motioned to her with it.

“No thank you.”

“I’m sure you aren’t here for my decorator’s number.”

“How do you know?” She folded her arms loosely so they didn’t hurt but enough to look as if she intended to be defiant. “Maybe I am.”

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